


Nizrenika

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Mahabharata fics [12]
Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Oneshot, Sati - Freeform, Self-Immolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Alone among the queens of Hastinapur, Madri has never minded leaving behind the name bestowed on her at birth. Strange enough for a princess who has never been satisfied with her life.





	Nizrenika

Madri hates the name she was given at birth, the only gift she has of a mother gone before her third birthday: _Nizrenika_. Ladder, grass. Definitely not a name for a princess, and she prefers to be known by Madri alone, as the representative of her kingdom. She is not entirely satisfied with that name -- she is never satisfied, never -- but it suits her the best.

Her sister-in-law, Shalya’s wife, warns her that a day will come when she must leave behind her given name forever, and she will long for it then. But marriage is a long time off, and until then, at least materially, she longs for nothing as princess of the Madra kingdom, middling but mighty. She writes calligraphy until her wrists ache, and delights in the beauty and praise. She organizes charity events on her own initiative, and hones her wit and learning so that visiting dignitaries might be pleased by the woman who represents their country. She is often found in the stables, tending the horses who give her so much and ask for so little.

Madri is always searching for something _more_ , more than being the only girl in the palace, to be coddled until she makes for a fine marital alliance. Maybe when she is married, has her own family, she will finally feel satisfied --

* * *

King Pandu of the Kurus is a worthy husband, certainly. But she is his second wife, and she was handed straight over to him without the courtesy of a swayamvar. He is impotent, and she is not so churlish as to blame him for something he was born with, but she had hoped for a strong husband as all girls do. Never satisfied, Madri never is, even when she is wedded and bedded. And Kunti, her sister queen, is always older, wiser, more dignified, more _proper_.

At least Madri has the lion’s share of his affection, and at least she lives up to her true name: _of kingdom Madra_ , upholding the alliance in both directions. It could always be worse. It could be his eyes that are pale and useless, like his elder brother, rather than his skin.

* * *

Then Pandu incurs the curse of a sage, as all heroes seem to do, and renounces his kingdom and retreats to the forest, as all heroes seem to do.

She has always admired Sita’s courage in accompanying her husband the way a layman vaguely admires a fine piece of art or music, with the knowledge that they would never be called upon to replicate it.

But now? Bereft of all luxuries or even basic needs, with only the forest and their own six hands to serve them? She had thought she loved horses and the rhythm of nature, but that was only within the carefully cultivated space of the stables. Madri wishes she could go back to every moment she was unsatisfied, whether in the palaces of Madra or Hastinapur, and shake her past self.

She has not even the consolation of children; before, their conception was difficult. Now, it is impossible.

Pandu is examining the clearing they have found, spreading his arms to indicate measurements as he confers with Kunti. Necessity calls Madri as well; she knots up her deerskin _pallu_ and sweeps her braid into a bun.

* * *

Two years into their stay in the woods, Madri thinks she understands why heroes always go there, why they are always dragged low. There is a clarity that comes with the reality of falling so far, that strips away pretenses and reveals strength that she never knew she had. She has learned she is hardier than she ever expected, as are Kunti and Pandu. They have lived, and survived, and been happy. Life in the forest at first had them working from dawn to dusk, but she was busy in a way she never had been even in her childhood.

And now? She has gotten better at it, and found satisfaction here. The gods have even shown their favor, when Kunti revealed her boon. She has children -- finally -- _finally_ \-- and even if they are not of her blood or even her husband’s, they are the children of gods, and her children too. She is only unsatisfied in the sense that she will never see her own face reflected in a child. And then, when Kunti has borne three children, she offers her the enchantment supposedly out of deference to the ancient rules, but also out of unspoken kindness that Kunti has an unexpected way of showing. Life in the forest has taught Madri how to shoot two birds with one arrow, and she summons the Ashwini twin gods, securing herself Nakul and Sahadev.

Shalya, who knew her in her days as princess, remarks at the change in her poise and purpose, on the rare occasions he visits their hut. There is an ease to Kunti as well, and more often than not she asks them to call her Pritha. She calls Madri Nizrenika as well. Here in the forest, it sounds better than it ever did in castles and gardens. They are no longer the representatives of their kingdoms, no longer princesses or queens, but mothers and wives -- and that too, untouched. She understands now, why Kunti likes the name her blood father had given her, Even Queen Gandhari, with whom they had enjoyed a brief, polite, and distant relationship, had asked them to call her Mahika in private.

Nakul and Sahadev take after her in her equestrian tastes, and she longs for the day they are old enough to mount horses themselves. Madri confesses she is not as attentively doting on their older brothers, but she still marvels at the serenity of Yudhisthira’s manner, sneaks Bhima sweets that Kunti would deny him, and cultivates a competitive streak in Arjuna that mirrors her own, knowing it will serve a man well the way it could never serve her.

And Pandu is every bit the champion husband she had always wanted. His five children share no blood with him, and her children and Kunti’s share none at all, yet he raises them all to be as self-contained and as dutiful as though they were trueborn full brothers. He bears his losses so well, and Nizrenika feels as though she falls in love with him all over again in the forest. True, even in Hastinapur she had quickly been smitten with the dutiful, if pale young king, but it is this stand-up family man who wins the abiding constancy of her heart.

He deserves so much more than the gods have given him, and Nizrenika wants to love him fully the way she never did, still half-entangled in the girlish idealism of youth when she was royalty. She would just be satisfied if she could embrace him the way a man like him should be, and then their idyll here in the forest would be complete --

* * *

_She screams. Screams, her wail splintering into sobs of grief that will never end, her breath stuttering into mucus-filled coughs and gasps. Pandu slumps over her knee, Pritha ushers her away and reties the sari Nizrenika didn’t realize was askew, tactfully shoos her sons away even as her own world comes apart._

_Always the fool. Fool fool fool fool fool never satisfied satisfaction not here for her to find now foolish fool fool --_

* * *

“Is your mind changed?” Kunti asks.

“No.” Madri has kissed and hugged Nakul and Sahadev until they squirmed and batted her away, said her goodbyes to Yudhisthira, Bhima, and Arjun, taken her leave of Shalya. If she lives, she will see the price of her lust reflected in the eyes of every person she meets. Pritha is a wise woman, wiser by far than Nizrenika could ever have hoped to be, and the twins will be in good hands. She will satisfy herself with that now.

“I ask only one thing of you. Never speak my name to anyone after this, not to the children, nor with my brother, nor to any other soul. Let it burn to ashes with me.”

A long pause. Smoke stings their eyes. “My sister--”

“Promise me.” Her voice grows hysterical. Let the flighty harlot who was never satisfied, who cost the Pandavas everything, be forever known as Madri, princess of Madra. Let Nizrenika be the sister Pritha appreciated, the mother five god-born boys idolized, and Pandu’s second queen whom he cherished. “Nizrenika was born in the forest, truly, and it is there that she will die. Let Nizrenika die upon this pyre!”

A calming touch upon her elbow -- the children are in the hut far back, and she would not have them remember her like this. Nizrenika squeezes the proffered hand one last time, and then Madri leaps.

**Author's Note:**

> Nizrenika being Madri’s birth name is my personal headcanon. I like the idea of Madri not liking her personal name and preferring to be known as the princess of her kingdom, while her fellow queens Kunti and Gandhari view it as a loss. Mahika is also my headcanon birth name for Gandhari.


End file.
